


Not today

by jamesraoulsilva



Category: 00silva - Fandom, James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, PWP, and I've never written this before so have mercy on my soul, but like really NO plot, thank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 15:51:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesraoulsilva/pseuds/jamesraoulsilva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP blowjob.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not today

“There there,” Silva murmurs as a response to Bond’s hiss, as he tapes the bandage, applying soft pressure on Bond’s wounded ankle. The agent stands bare-chested with one feet on the table, knee raised, balancing on his toes with his other foot on the ground, while Silva sits on a chair, swaddling his wounds – the position being very uncomfortable for the spy, feeling like he’s being torn into half and he’s sure his crotch will rip right up if that damned asshole keeps tugging at his leg.

“All done,” the bottle blond says contently and presses a soft kiss on Bond’s knee, who tries to pull his leg away to relieve the pain in his groin from standing with one leg up so long, his suit pants being uncomfortably tight. Silva, however, grips his knee firmly and smiles ferociously, baring his teeth, before he grabs the suit leg and rips it open, up to Bond’s knee. The blond latches his teeth on the skin and starts biting, licking over the marks. Bond groans and fists his hands in those soft curly locks, hopping around on his toes to keep his balance. When Silva notices this he firmly gets a hold of the agent’s hips with one hand and with the other he continues ripping the trousers off.

Bond grits his teeth for a couple of seconds as relief is near, the ex-agent almost reaching the point where his pants would be completely torn open, but Silva stops before that happens and grins up at Bond again.

Suddenly the blond moves his face forward, gently burying his face against the bulge in Bond’s pants, letting his hot breath wash over his crotch, the heat seeping right through the fabric onto his skin. Bond grips his hair harder; biting his tongue to keep himself from moaning loudly, not wanting to give the other man the pleasure of seeing him come apart from just his fucking breath. Silva’s lips ghost over the outline of his cock through the fabric, making Bond grit his teeth, but he can’t help himself from blurting out “fuck!” loudly.

The blond tuts and bites in his thigh muscle, both of his hands on Bond’s hips. “Be nice, James,” he purrs. “Or what? You’ll stop torturing me?” Bond retorts right back and he hates himself for sounding so desperate. Of course Silva picks right up at that and bites his inner thigh, softer now, eliciting a tiny moan from the agent before he bursts out into a tirade, cursing Silva to hell and back. Without warning the blond pulls back and looks up, his pupils dilated and his hair deliciously ruffled.

“What now,” Bond gripes, drawing out the vowels, his voice hoarse already. Silva doesn’t look at his face, those heavy-lidded eyes instead following a trail over Bond’s torso and abdomen only he can see, but for the agent it feels like he’s unclothing him already and again he inquires, more urgent this time, “what?”

The blond eyes him incredulously; “you didn’t think I was just going to give it to you, did you? Oof, that would be _so_ boring and we both know you like a little game, don’t you Ja-” One of Bond’s hands travels to his neck and cuts him off, as the harsh squeezing convinces Silva to shut up and indulge him – for now.

Accordingly, the blond rips the agent’s pants off, now nothing more than a piece of expensive fabric dangling on Bond’s other leg. Silva moves forward again, his tongue circling around the agent’s belly button, leaving him desiring to beg for more but he’s not going to that, not today, Bond thinks but then Silva’s warm hands start stroking the backsides of his upper legs, the movement seemingly gentle and soft but then those long fingers start exploring and Bond lets himself fall forward against the other man with a groan.

Silva’s mouth latches onto the soft skin just below his navel immediately and slowly starts licking down, his hands wrapped around Bond’s waist. Bond experiences an unpleasant tingling feeling in the foot that is still on the table, his blood flow and nerves cut off because he still has his knee raised so impossibly high but then that gorgeous wet mouth licks lower and lower and _lower_ and he has to bite his lips not to scream out already—

–and then it stops and it’s even worse, only the feeling of Silva’s full, soft lips slightly quivering against his skin and he can’t help but whimper softly, because God knows he wants it so desperately. Then Silva’s fingers disappear, his hands winding around Bond’s neck to tug him down forcefully and kiss him fiercely. Bond tries to pry his tongue between the blond’s lips, but he has trouble concentrating because he’s standing doubled over, his ass up and he’s at the mercy of his lover’s hands and those hands promise nothing gentle.

Silva lets him go and goes down on his knees before him, his hands travelling down over Bond’s perfectly chiseled chest and scars, which are only minor imperfections on master craftsmanship, to rest at his hips again. The blond licks Bond’s inner thigh again, so impossibly close and the agent forgets everything he promised himself and lets out a strangled cry and buries his hands in the blond hair, tugging and winding it around his fingers.

At last Silva hums softly and licks a wet trail from the base of his cock to the tip, making Bond’s head spin and sending a blood rush right down to his groin. He grows harder because of the feeling of blond’s velvet, capable lips and unwillingly moves his hips forward as much as he can, urging the man to continue.

Finally the blond gives in and wraps his mouth around the head and Bond almost rips Silva’s hair out in an attempt not to lose it completely, the wetness so marvelously hot and _perfect_ and he moans loudly as Silva tongues the slit before swallowing him down whole without effort. Silva sucks in and Bond moves his hips in rhythm, trying to hold himself together. The blond moves off for a moment, his lips pink and gorgeously swollen and he presses soft messy kisses all over his length, then grazes his teeth along a vein before flicking his tongue along the head and taking him down once more.

Bond screams out loud, entirely losing himself, black spots appearing at the corner of his vision and the sensation sending shivers through his spine, his nerve endings are on fire and he moans brokenly that he’s not going to last. Silva increases the pressure on his hips and pulls him towards him, almost gagging because it’s too much but then Bond comes into Silva’s mouth with another loud scream, his hips moving and riding out his orgasm slowly. Silva moves away and stands up, licking his own lips. Bond slumps forward into his arms, feeling spent and tired and just when he thinks the blond will allow him to stand in a _normal_ position, he hoists his other leg up around his own waist and carries him towards the bedroom.

**

“Alright alright, you win,” Bond yells loudly, voice muffled because he has buried his face into the sheets. “I won’t be able to fucking walk tomorrow,” he moans. Silva chuckles and lets himself fall down on the agent’s back and softly kisses his shoulder. “There there.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well I don't even know, hope you enjoyed it ¿


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